Flesh and Blood
by thewraven
Summary: Despite the way he acts, Shawn knows more than anything else that he has to work to get the things he wants.


**Characters:** Shawn Spencer, Chief Karen Vick  
 **Author's Note:** I am _so_ sorry.  
 **Disclaimer:** All characters are copyright to their respective copyright holders.

" _We must take care of our families wherever we find them."  
-Elizabeth Gilbert_

 _ **Flesh and Blood**_ _  
_

It's pitiful.

He's not really surprised though. He's always been a jealous, immature person—childish. He had difficulty containing impulses—though, admittedly, he did have an incredible poker face. He was pretty overprotective too.

And possessive. It was really, really selfish. Once she'd wormed her way into his heart, it was bound to happen. He'd known that she was married, happily as someone who worked in the police could be. She had been pregnant when he first met her in person, and she has a daughter now. And a husband, of course.

Though, to be fair, she'd already had a niggling spot in this heart that was bound to become hers eventually. She used to be his father's partner, and Henry had talked about all of them. Henry didn't make it a habit to let his son get involved in police activities, but he'd talk about his life as a police officer, thinking it would prepare Shawn for what he'd become.

In a way, it had.

Not to digress.

Chief Vick was a wife, a mother, and it was only natural for her to smile so tenderly in front of her family. Seeing the tall man with smooth pepper hair cradling a bundle of pink blanket and following the chief to her office only drove it home.

He was aware that he was standing in the middle of the station hallway, staring at the tile as he watched her out of the corner of his eye with an odd expression on his face.

He was jealous. Of an infant.

Shawn knew he had familial issues, but it was only then that he even realized the way he looked at Chief Vick. Like a mother.

It might have something to do with the way she would treat him like a child—he insisted on acting like one anyway—but whenever he pulled out the antics, she would either get furiously irritated or her upper lip would curl in an obvious attempt to not laugh. It was when she was praising or berating him that he could easily see under the layer of a 'chief' to find a 'person' instead. He prided himself in that.

But this tall, handsome man and this small, pink bundle with a soft tuft of hair poking out didn't have to work for it.

And it might have something more to do with his own parents. Both his parents loved him; he knew that. But his father had a stubborn way of pushing his own expectations onto a person, and Henry felt he should have no reservations with his own child. Mold Shawn into a replica of himself, one that would be even better than the original. He had no trouble treating his son like a puppet sometimes. And his mother had a stubborn way of pushing what she wanted onto other people. So leaving before he was a decade old because she suddenly realized she didn't want to be a mother was no problem. She could just come back and pick up from where she left off, right?

Chief, though. She'd been prepared for disappointment from the start, but she held a hope that Shawn could help her and he did. And that smile he'd gotten as she told him good job had been reward in itself.

Of course, those smiles would hardly stop him from asking for a bit more in a check. Maybe another zero on the end of that?

 _Chief,_ he thought. _What have you done to me?_ His own mother had been gracious enough with hugs and praise, but sometimes it didn't feel genuine. Sometimes she smiled just for show, but she never seemed particularly interested when he did something to impress her. Madeline was supposed to be Henry's contradiction, and something that helped Shawn hurt less when he saw the disappointment in Henry's eyes.

Chief's eyes, when carrying disappointment in him, didn't look so unyielding. It wasn't just that she was an important figure in his (thirty year old) life. It was that she _could_ be impressed. He _could_ soften her up, make the edges of her lips curl up in amusement. Shawn could make her smile.

But, of course, he had to work for it.

* * *

Karen strolled up to her office, family in tow. Her husband had insisted on walking her as far as he could, being both a stay-at-home housewife—not literally, of course—and gentlemanly husband. They both fuss over their daughter for a few long moments, and then, she stops.

Shawn Spencer is standing still in the middle of the hallway in the middle of the hallway, as if he'd just stopped suddenly, mid-step. He looks serious and contemplative, like he hasn't seen her at all, but at the same time he seems to be completely aware of all his surroundings. It's mostly the 'still' part that worries her.

He wasn't having a "vision" was he? Those were usually flaunted with a fat lack of grace and a whole lot of debonair flair. And she still had her doubts as to how genuine they were.

No, he looks _pained_. Every few moments he'd furrow his eyebrows like he did when he was thinking, and then he'd scrunch up his nose just barely like he'd come across a particularly disturbing conclusion, and then he'd look saddened, like he'd just lost something important to him.

Temporarily distracted by her husband's departure, she kissed him briefly but no less fondly than any other time, and he pivoted on his heel and walked away.

Shawn was one of her own, even if not officially, and anyone in the station would testify to that. He showed up at the station whether for a case or not—usually not—and he was always friendly with the officers, helping them out in his devilishly charming way—even if only to take a peak at something and be unnecessarily involved—but Shawn, particularly, was special in a way. She knew his father and had heard about him when he was just a child, and the motherly part of her wanted to accept him as family.

That might have something to do with his immature, childish antics though.

When she turned back to him, intent on confronting him and hoping she could offer some wise words to make him at least feel better, he was looking up in surprise. Towards the direction of her husband and child. He turned his head, and they locked eyes. Terror. All she saw was terror.

And before she knew it, he'd lurched forward, nearly falling on his face in his sudden movement, and swept right past her, ready to barrel into her unsuspecting husband. She'd barely gotten half his name out before he swiveled around, pushing her husband backwards and stumbling hard into a grey-clad maintenance worker.

A knife wielding grey-clad maintenance worker, who was now holding a knife a Shawn's throat.

* * *

And what was he _supposed_ to do, huh?

It's a station full of cops, and Shawn knew that they all sometimes missed the obvious, but one would think they weren't _that_ oblivious.

Apparently they were.

No one else had noticed the maintenance guy or his suspicious glances towards the chief and her family. They hadn't seen his eyes lock on the little wrapped bundle or the knife he was holding not covertly enough. And Chief's husband was too wrapped up in his daughter to notice the approaching threat.

He hadn't really meant to jump in the way like that, be the one taken hostage instead.

But hey, if no one else is gonna do it, right?


End file.
